End of my first week

Holy Shit. That was hard. Real hard. Not like Times crossword hard. The other kind. I was fucked tired most of the week. My legs were like lead at the start of the week. This was replaced by fire by about Thursday. Training was pretty much like the first day, every day of the week. Have been grappling with bigger and bigger guys as the week went on. Got an absolutely lovely slam on a guy Friday morning though. He had me in the corner, came in with a flying knee for my chest, I side stepped, hooked under his leg and demonstrated a textbook body slam much to everyone's amusement. Including my own. But not his.
Got a handle on the fatigue by Friday, so decided to do two classes on the Saturday. Tim, the gym manager, suggested it. "Just go down do a few laps, and a few rounds of the bag", he said. Sounded easy enough but when I got there, every trainer kept grabbing me and taking me for a few rounds on their specialist area, and it ended up being the hardest training session of the week. Did a couple of laps (each lap is 1.2k), 3 rounds in the ring, which ended just before i collapsed. Then while I was waiting for a punchbag to hide behind for the afternoon, the boxing expert took me for three insane rounds of just hands. Then one of the junior trainers had me kick the bag 60 times as hard as possible on each leg. I was going so all-out that 40 kicks in, I thought my heart was gonna burst out of my chest. But unfortunately it didn't and I had to keep going.
Had a bit of a spar with an Irish lad at the end. All was going well until I hit him with an overhand right and sprained my thumb. Kissed myself better and called it a day. And a week.
So that was my first week of training. Managed to remain injury free, except for a blister on my foot and my sprained thumb so happy enough. Next week, I will be doing all the morning classes and half the night ones. This is because I am totally deadly.

First day of training

Fuck me. I repeat. Fuck me. That was about the most intense thing I've ever done. My chest was like a blast furnace half way through my 3 1/2k run. Back to the gym for three rounds of skipping. Then one of the trainers put my wraps on and I got into the ring for 3 rounds of hardcore pads. It actually wasn't that hardcore, but in the state I was in anything except crying would have been hardcore. Went as hard as I could for as long as I could. In fairness to the trainer he gave me more than the the usual 60 seconds between rounds to recover, to give me the most benefit but no matter how much time he gave me it wasn't enough. Still I was first there in the morning and last to leave so I didn't make a total cunt of myself. Finished the pads, went on to the bag for five or six rounds. After that got bag in the ring for some heavy clinch work. The quality of the Thai's wrestling skills are out of this world. Had a 12 year old take me to school for several rounds. Finished off with some weights, stretching and so on. Limped home. Lay down. Made a deal with my stomach to keep my breakfast down long enough to absorb and I would eat earlier tomorrow.

Chiang Mai

So got here at last. Got picked up from the airport and brought down to the camp. Watched the end of the evening session with a growing sense of dread, as I realise I will soon be the one in the ring. Went to our MASSIVE new house. Noticed how big it looked with no furniture. Slept on the floor in my tracksuit. Filled the house the following day for less than thirty quid. :) Pretty much just dicked around the following day, as only fighters with impending fights train on sundays (so they have exclusive access to the trainers).
Went to bed to rest before my first day of training in Thailand...

Bangkok

Christ. What a hole of a place. Seriously. Hot, sticky, nasty. With people taking it in tours to try and gouge you. Get in to a taxi and tell him whatever you want, but it doesn't matter coz before he brings you where you want, he'll bring you every where that his mates have shops. No one in Bangkok will let you pass without trying to make a buck off you. Still, not as bad as Ireland. At least they smile and are polite while they're fucking you.
Had a weird discussion about politics with a hooker in some bar, and then played hundreds of games of connect four with her. Had to send her to the bar for a drink so I could fuck off without any hassle. That backfired though, so had to buy her one too. Bitch.
Anyway, after trying to buy a train ticket out of there for two days, ended up getting an airplane ticket instead. More expensive than the train but less expensive than everyone in Bangkok trying to hire their sister out to me while they sold me some nice second hand shoes.

The trip over

So the trip over was fairly unevntful, except I nearly missed the flight coz i thought it was in the evening and not the morning. That'll be the drugs. Had a stopover in Bahrain. A boring airport except for the hundreds of Al-Queda looking motherfuckers, arguing, then muttering under their breath and staring me out of it.
I've actually found a new dimension to an otherwise normal flight, and feel free to try this; pissing in turbulence. No seriously, after the initial shock, it's quite fun. With one hand on the rail thingy, trying to keep your balance and not coat the entire cubicle. It's a lot like I imagine rodeo to be like, I was just short of waving my stetson around, while the plane tried to buck me.